Headline: In Love With You
by CookieTower
Summary: "Mr. Williams, this is Axis Productions' top artist, Alfred F. Jones." Alfred grinned at him and waved from the couch he was sitting on. "Hey there, Mattie!" - Matthew hates Alfred. Not before though. But why? Still, Alfred is determined to win him back.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings**: Out-of-Character-ness, language, and that's it I think… for now.

**Disclaimer**: not Hidekaz Himaruya so Axis Powers: Hetalia isn't mine. The contents of the story are pure fiction, any resemblance to actual people, events and other shit like company names are purely coincidental. I laughed when I realized I wrote _A.N.N. _xP

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Matthew Williams sat dazed in the heavily tinted car as it drove down the road. He stared at the buildings they passed as his driver talked animatedly about anything and everything. He glanced at his wristwatch and found that it was just a few minutes past noon – enough time for his scheduled appointment with _Axis Productions_. Once the massive building of the company was in view, Matthew ordered the driver to drop him off on the driveway and comeback for him in two hours or so. The driver nodded and pulled the car to a stop.

As Matthew slid out of the car with the materials he need for the appointment, he saw a brown-haired woman waving at him by the entrance of the building. The woman approached him with a smile and he smiled back.

"Thank you so much for coming here, Mr. Williams!" the woman immediately stated. Matthew shook his head.

"It's no problem, Ms. Héderváry. I should thank _you _for giving me this opportunity." He said.

Ms. Héderváry ushered him into the building. Matthew had to stop and appreciate the extravagance of the company. If he did not know this place, he would have mistaken it for a five-star hotel.

"I did not know Mr. Ludwig Beilschmidt liked lavishness." Matthew offered as the brunette led him to the elevator. Ms. Héderváry laughed at the comment.

"It wasn't Ludwig actually," Matthew raised a brow at the familiarity but did not interrupt her. "It was all Feliciano Vargas's idea." She said with a little chuckle as she pushed the elevator button. Matthew nodded and made a mental note to ask his boss if he wanted a little back story about the administrators of _Axis Productions_.

The elevator door opened and Matthew went inside as Ms. Héderváry had instructed.

"Ms. Héderváry–" he started but the brunette waved him off politely.

"Please, call me Elizaveta." She said.

Matthew nodded. "Ah, yes. Ms. E-Elizaveta," he said. He flipped through one of the folders he had and missed the mischievous smirk of the woman. When he looked back, her face was back to a polite smile. "I assume… Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo is available right now?"

Elizaveta frowned. "'Tonio is on a tour, Mr. Williams." Matthew's eyes widened at that and looked back to his papers. The brunette grinned maniacally and returned to normal when Matthew looked back.

"B-but Ms. Elizaveta," Matthew began frantically. "The _Allied News Network _specifically scheduled for an interview with him!"

The brunette brought a hand to her cheek as if she was confused. "Ah, but _A.N.N. _asked for Alfred F. Jones, not Antonio…"

Matthew's eyes dilated at the name and shook his head fervently but the woman just nodded. Matthew brought out his mobile phone and excused himself for a short phone call. As he waited anxiously for the other line to pick up, Elizaveta secretly brought out her own phone and started texting someone – all while grinning maniacally again.

Finally, the other line picked up, "_'Allo?_"

"Mr. Bonnefoy," Matthew began. "I think we've made a mistake with the appointment, Sir. Ms. H- Héderváry says we asked for _Alfred, _not Antonio."

There was a pause at the other end and the elevator finally stopped and opened. Matthew panicked. "Francis!" So much for being formal and professional…

"_Ah, forgive me, Mathieu._" Mr. Bonnefoy said and coughed. "_We did not make a mistake, cher. You are to interview Mr. Jones._"

Elizaveta ushered Matthew out of the elevator. He hissed, "But we assigned his interview to Yao! You told me I'd take Antonio!"

"_Non, Mathieu. Just interview Mr. Jones._"

"I-I only have the questions for Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo, Mr. Bonnefoy!"

Francis sighed. "_Mathieu, it's just an interview for the fans. The questions are quite the same._"

"But Francis…" Matthew whined into the device. The woman with him had to suppress the giggles threatening to erupt as she watched the distraught blond.

"_It will not work, cher. Do not even try. You will interview Alfred._"

He was about to protest again but the other line had already hung up. He tried to call again but it seems he could not contact the other anymore. He groaned and offered an apologetic look to Elizaveta. Matthew did not want to talk to Alfred F. Jones.

Matthew Williams **did not** want to talk to Alfred _Fucking _Jones.

"I take it that you do not like _Axis Productions' _top artist?" Elizaveta asked, amused.

Matthew practically screamed. "I hate his guts and I do not want to breathe the same air as him." Elizaveta had to laugh at that. "Seriously, he should just die."

"Oh Mr. Williams, why do you dislike our Alfred? He has quite a charming personality and a handsome face."

Matthew tried not rolled his eyes. He forced a smile into his features. "Please, Ms. Héderváry. May we proceed to the assigned room now?"

The brunette just chuckled and led him to a room just at the end of the hallway. Once at the door, she knocked and the door swung open to reveal a room made to look like a cozy living room. Matthew half-glared at the interior, not at all impressed anymore as the very presence of _Alfred F. Jones _made him seethe.

"Yo, Liz!" Matthew's strained smile twitched at the voice. "Is he here?"

"Yes, Alfred. Mr. Williams is here." The woman said and gestured to Matthew. "Mr. Williams, this is _Axis Productions' _top artist, Alfred F. Jones."

Alfred grinned at him and waved from the couch he was sitting on. "Hey there, Mattie!"

"Hello, Mr. Jones." Matthew said through his teeth, try hard not to stomp to the door and leave.

Ms. Héderváry was the lucky one though and she left the men alone in the room to stare at each other. Once the door clicked shut, Matthew let his strained smile be replaced by a deep scowl. Alfred pouted.

"Mattie, do you still hate me?"

"No shit!" Matthew snapped. He went to sit on the opposite side of the couch though and began to prepare for the interview. Alfred moved closer but Matthew hissed at him to stay where he is, "Don't you dare come near, Jones."

"Oh come on! It's been three years!" Alfred whined and crossed his arms like a child.

"Well, too bad. I still hate you." Matthew huffed. It might have happened three years ago but he's never one to forget so easily. He turned to look at the artist and rolled his eyes. "Stop sulking. I want to finish this interview so I can leave."

"Whatever."

Matthew groaned. "Look, if you don't cooperate, I will make you sound like a childish idiot for the whole duration of your part!"

"Go ahead." Alfred sniffed. Matthew spluttered. "I don't give a shit."

"Oh for the love of– fine! I'll answer these questions myself!"

Matthew opened the questionnaire and brought out his pen. He skimmed through the questions first and then he started to answer them individually. Alfred watched him from the corner of his eye and smiled. The artist stood up quietly from his seat and walked around the couch to go behind Matthew. He stared at him as he answered the questions with ease as if he were the actual person. Alfred chuckled.

"You still know everything about me, huh?"

Matthew jumped slightly and glared at him, albeit a cute shade of red dusting his cheeks. "Shut up." He said and went back to answering. He never looked back to ask any confirmation of his answers. From what Alfred could see, they were all correct. He grinned.

"You know _everything_, Mattie. That's so cute."

"What– shut up!" Matthew growled as he viciously scrawled the answers to the last question. After that, he packed up and made his way to the door. "I'm leaving."

"Wait!" Alfred shouted and grabbed onto his wrist. Matthew rolled his eyes. "You can't just leave!"

"I'm done with the interview." Matthew deadpanned and flicked the grip away. "Rest assured I will not be meeting you again."

He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. He walked out quickly and slammed the door shut. Just as he had reached the elevator, the door burst open and Alfred shouted.

"I will get you back, Matthew Williams! You will fall in love with me again!"

"You tell yourself that." Matthew replied and entered the elevator.

Once it closed though, he started to vehemently deny that his heart skipped a beat and that his face is so damn red.

Shit.

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><p><strong>AN: **What is this? It's a new story**/shot. **I can't help it! ;A; I was just listening to _Interviewer _by _Megurine Luka _and I started writing some depressing shit but then I started bawling and said, "I don't want angst! Let's do humor! **Humor!**" And so I tried to make it sound humorous but then it just _changed_. It doesn't sound like it's based off of _Interviewer_ anymore (though I have that depressing version saved just in case I change my mind). And damn, another AU… I was hoping to write something in line with the actual APH universe. ;A; But yeah. ;A; Kill me now. ;A; Sorry about the grammar and spelling mistakes, by the way. I still don't proofread. ;A;

But reviews are welcomed. :DD**/shot.**


	2. Chapter 2

HAPPY NEW YEAR! People actually like this story. ;A;

**Warnings:** Out-of-Character-ness, language, and that's it I think… for now.

**Disclaimer:** not Hidekaz Himaruya so Axis Powers: Hetalia isn't mine.

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The door to his office could have snapped off its hinges with the amount of force exerted on the poor thing. Employees loitering outside his office visibly jumped at his action and started muttering as if they were given a death threat. Matthew Williams sighed and opened the door again calmly, giving an apologetic smile to his co-workers.

"I-I'm sorry…" he said, blushing, and closed the door. After the door clicked shut, he heard his co-workers began muttering excitedly and _was that a squeal_?

Matthew gave another sigh and sluggishly walked to his wide desk. He sat down on his swivel chair and threw his materials down onto the wooden surface. He sighed again.

"Why did I have to see _him _again?" he asked himself.

A lot had happened to Matthew within the past three years – getting this job being one of them. Becoming a newsman for _Allied News Network _was probably the highlight of those three years. Hewas not one of the reporters on screen that most people know; he was a segment producer. He wrote up the stories for newsmen on camera. It was a career he prided himself on because he was one of the youngest to make it into a high paying job off camera on _A.N.N._ He focused mostly on show business. That was probably why he couldn't avoid Alfred F. Jones forever.

"Maybe I can ask Francis to move me into politics…"

"_Non_, you will stay in showbiz."

Matthew jumped from his seat and fell onto the carpeted floor. Several papers flew from his demise and he started babbling as he scrambled to get up. Francis, his boss (not really) and his older cousin, sighed fondly. "Ah, Mathieu, you are back early. Have you finished the interview?"

"Y-yes_,_" He replied while rearranging his papers. He looked through them, brought out a folder and held it out for Francis. "I'll work on the script today and give it to Feliks."

"Thank you." Francis nodded and took the folder. He flipped through its contents and raised a brow, "Mathieu?"

"Yes?"

"There are no direct quotations."

The newsman pressed his lips into a thin line and looked down. His cousin tapped his foot to feign impatience. He flinched and looked up again with a face that resembled a kicked puppy. Francis sighed, "Schedule for a live interview."

"W-what? No!"

Francis chuckled. "Ah Mathieu, what's wrong? Feliks is the interviewer." The younger looked embarrassed but seemed relieved to hear that, and the Frenchman continued. "You will deal with _Axis _yourself though."

"But Francis," the newsman began.

His cousin shook his head and went for the door. "It has been three years. If I remember correctly, you are at fault as well." He said, leaving the room.

Matthew groaned. Three years or not, he still could not forget what happened. Although docile and quiet most of the time, he had major pride issues. That is why the _tragedy _of three years ago would forever be etched onto his mind and soul. He groaned again. He did not like being reminded of what happened three years ago – mostly because it was partly his fault, but Matthew liked blaming people. It was the most embarrassing event of his life.

The recorder he used for Alfred's interview lay idly on the desk and Matthew glared at it. It did not have any material for a story so he could not give it to Francis. He grabbed it and pressed 'play'.

_You will fall in love with me again!_

Now when did that get in there? Matthew blushed and smiled but immediately wiped off the grin and scowled. He should have done more research about the artist's whereabouts. Last time he checked—which was about _three years ago_—Alfred was at least five states away from him. When the artist had signed up for _Axis_, was beyond him. It was quite embarrassing because he was a newsman for _show business _therefore he should have , all he knew was that Jones' popularity had risen exponentially recently. It was only a matter of time until he met him again.

And he did.

The phone rang and Matthew snapped out of his thoughts. He sighed and picked it up. "Hello?"

"_Sir, there's a call for you from Axis on line one._"

"A-_Axis_?" he stuttered. His assistant asked him what was wrong and he dismissed it with nervous laughter. "I-It's nothing. Ah, I'll take the call."

He grumbled and pressed a button on the phone. Another voice spoke into his ear. He tried not to growl. "_Mr. Williams? This is Elizaveta._"

"Ah yes, Ms. Héderváry. Good timing; I was just about to call you." He said. Well, if he needs to book an interview then he better do it now. "Is Mr. Jones available this Saturday?"

A squeal answered him and Matthew raised a brow. "_Are you asking him out on a date?_"

"N-no!" he griped. "I wanted to schedule for a live interview!"

"_Aw, really? Well…_" why the woman sounded so disappointed was beyond him. Elizaveta sighed. "_Well he's free for several hours this Saturday. Is it for 'Yapping with the Stars? Five o'clock is okay._"

Matthew nodded. "Yes, just a short segment with Feliks. Would it be fine?"

"_Yes, of course! He's still free for a few more hours after the interview though, if you're interested._" Elizaveta purred and he spluttered. "_Well, Matthew?_"

"Ms. H-Héderváry, please. I told you, I-I hate him." There was a short silence after then some loud shuffling on the other line. Matthew could hear giggling as well. Suddenly, a new voice came in. "Get off the phone, Alfred." he hissed, though a pleasant tint of red dusted his cheeks.

"_We didn't exactly have a proper conversation earlier. So yeah, wanna' have dinner?_"

"No." Matthew said and hung up. His cellphone started ringing and he answered, "Matthew Williams speaking."

"_Seriously, love, can't we talk this out?_"

"Don't—don't call me that." Alfred chuckled on the other end of the line and the newsman frowned. "How the hell did you get my number? I'm hanging up."

"_No! Wait, I—_" Matthew cut his words short by ending the call with another sigh.

Damn his pride issues.

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"Liz, he's still angry."

"Alfred, sweetie, don't give up just yet…"

"Who said I was giving up?" Alfred snorted. He was seated in the back seat of a heavily tinted car with Elizaveta, his manager, at the wheel. He couldn't expose himself too much or else a barrage of fans would spot him and potentially molest him. He shrugged. "I'm just saying that he's still mad at me."

Alfred F. Jones was a popular artist under _Axis Productions_. He had been working there for more or less a year but not because he wanted to become popular. He was chasing after someone. He had been looking for him for two years prior to his arrival in _Axis_. He was after Matthew Williams.

His boyfriend.

At least he thought Matthew was still his boyfriend. The newsman-turned-university student never broke up with him officially anyway. He just disappeared one day after he gave Alfred a wonderful shiner and hasn't contacted him ever since. The newsman's friends and relatives were told not to inform Alfred of his whereabouts, unfortunately. That left the artist depressed for a week until he decided to stop moping around and find his boyfriend.

It had taken three years for his search to pay off.

Who would've thought that watching the usually ignored credits of a news report would help him find Matthew?

"Damn, Mattie's good at hiding." Alfred muttered and his manager laughed.

"It was hard to find him since you never thought he'd be working as a segment producer." Elizaveta explained. Alfred hummed in agreement. "And with the _incident_ three years ago, it's a miracle he even set foot on the world of media."

"It would have been easier to find him if I announced that he's missing on television." The artist chuckled and sighed. "But I don't think he'll ever forgive me if I told the whole world that he was actually a guy…"

His mind was suddenly filled with images of Matthew wearing a long, blond wig and cute dress. Fortunately, his manager snapped him out of his thoughts before they became less innocent. He coughed uncomfortably.

"Don't blame yourself, dear. Matthew is also at fault for agreeing to be introduced as your _girlfriend_—seriously; I have no qualms if he was introduced as your boyfriend but anyway—"

"It was my idea though." Alfred said and frowned. "It really was a bad idea since a lot of guys flirted with him." His eyes narrowed at the thought. "I can't blame him for being mad at me because of that but I can't have him _hate _me so—dude, are you okay?"

Elizaveta waved him off and pressed a tissue to her nostrils. "I'm fine." She said and opened the car door next to her. "Shall we go?" Alfred looked skeptical but he nodded.

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It was a fine Saturday morning and Matthew was reluctant to leave his bed. Francis had already called him thrice to get up. He did not want to go to work today. He did not want to enter his office and occasionally go out to monitor shows and reports. He did not want to stand by and watch the news on set. He did not want to listen to the show business section of the news. He did not want to listen to the interviewer and interviewee chatting on set.

He did not want to see Alfred F. Jones.

His cellphone rang for the fourth time and he finally crawled out of bed. He ignored the call and slipped into his bathroom for a quick shower. He got dressed, ate breakfast and prepared the things he would need for the day. His cellphone rang for the fifth time as he finally limped out of the door of his apartment building.

"Running late today, Mr. Williams?" the doorman laughed and Matthew flipped him off.

"Not in the mood today, man; leave me alone." He said and stomped over to his car. He could still hear the doorman laughing obnoxiously at him like _someone_.

He groaned exasperatedly and pretended that he wasn't blushing.

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><p><strong>AN: **meep? ;A; Oh, oh! I have a beta now. Isn't it amazing? Please surrender all your cookies to **DreamerLoverHaterKillerMolder**. This chapter wouldn't look and sound better without her. And check out her works! I love **Phobia **and **Philia/shotforshamelessplugging. **A-anyway, since it's now 2012, my vacation is over! I'm sorry; updates won't be as fast as they are now. I will try to sneak a chapter or two every a week if my work load allows it. No promises though. ;A; Uh, this is usually the part where I apologize for grammar and spelling errors… Meh. I'll still apologize because it feels odd not too. ;A;

Reviews are still welcomed~ :DD**/shot.**


	3. Chapter 3

Hey, sorry for the delay! There's an explanation why I haven't updated at the end of the chapter. Thank you for sticking with this story! This chapter is a tad bit longer than the others because… well, I don't think I could make it any shorter. ;A;

**Warnings**: Out-of-Character-ness, language, and that's it I think… for now.

**Disclaimer**: not Hidekaz Himaruya so Axis Powers: Hetalia isn't mine.

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The moment Matthew had entered the building he knew something was wrong. The clerks at the reception desk gave him pitying looks and the employees in the hallways bowed their heads solemnly at him. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat and trudged on to his office. Matthew's cellphone rang for a grand total of seventeen times since he crawled out of bed this morning—if that was any indication, then he was really in deep shit.

As he arrived on his floor and walked to his office, his co-workers looked at him painfully and ran off dramatically before he could ask anything. Matthew felt cold all over as he fully accepted what all these meant. When he passed by his assistant's desk and the woman looked up at him with tears in her eyes, he finally snapped.

"I—I'm not going to die, am I?" Matthew muttered and his assistant sobbed harder. "Stop being such a drama queen, damn it!"

"You're too cute to die!" The woman wailed and Matthew blushed in embarrassment. Several others on the floor hummed in agreement and he scowled.

"It's not like I haven't been lectured by the boss before. I'll be fine, everyone, really." Matthew said and stomped over to his office door. His assistant begged him not to enter but he ignored her and pushed it open. Once inside, he turned about to close the door, but it suddenly slammed shut. The lights lit up brightly and he hissed.

Matthew turned around to face his office desk and found his boss, leaning against the desk with his arms folded across his chest. The man's ungodly brows were raised up in a lazy, haughty manner and a definite frown was on his features. His boss had several papers placed on the desk and Matthew swallowed. The newsman cursed—he forgot about his breakfast meeting with the man.

"You're running a little late, Mr. Williams." His boss stated in a faintly sarcastic tone. Matthew knew that tone well; many employees of _Allied News Network _had been reduced to tears by this tone. The newsman swallowed for the second time.

"I—I apologize, M-Mr. Kirkland. Something held me back this morn—"

"Breakfast had been cleared two hours ago," the man said and unfolded his arms. He reached for one of the papers on the desk and fixed his gaze on it. "I was wondering where you had gone. Surely you haven't forgotten about the meeting, yes?"

"I'm sorry." Matthew squeaked, unable to say anything else. He ducked his head low and worried his lower lip. Matthew _feared _Mr. Kirkland when he was like this. The Englishman's no nonsense tone always made him want to crawl under a rock and die… or run to his cousin and cry. Either way, Matthew would still lose a piece of his soul.

Mr. Kirkland sighed tiredly, "Apology accepted." The man said and the young newsman looked up in surprise. "I'll let you go on this one for now. I feel that you'd need a bit more of your soul for later."

Matthew spluttered, "E-excuse me?"

"I should be the one apologizing right now. Yes, my deepest apologies in advance, Matthew." The man shook his head mournfully. Matthew almost wanted to ask what the hell he was sorry for. Was he really about to die? He searched his boss's features for something, anything. Mr. Kirkland gave him a sympathetic smile as if he _knew _something. Matthew whimpered.

"Now lad, don't do that. You'd make this more painful to accept than it already is." The Englishman frowned and approached him. He placed his hands on the young newsman's shoulders and looked at him straight in the eyes. "No matter what happens, I—well, at least you will not lose your job. I promise."

"Should—should I be relieved? I feel more afraid than relieved, to be honest. Please Mr. Kirkland, what is this all about?" Matthew said in a voice that did not seem any less than mortified. Over what, he did not know. His boss didn't help his cluelessness at all. The man just shook his head.

"I'm so sorry, Matthew." Mr. Kirkland whispered weakly and went for the door. The newsman gaped. "I'll leave the documents for the board meeting next week with you. Read them over, please? I'm really sorry, Matthew."

When his boss had left, Matthew was still gaping. He closed his eyes hard and groaned. "What the hell was that?" he uttered to no one in particular and went to his desk.

Matthew ran a hand through his hair in mild annoyance. There was a list of things he needed to worry about at the moment and Mr. Kirkland's random apology only added another entry to the list. Well, there was actually one thing on the list but it might as well be an entry with a thousand sub points.

Alfred F. Jones.

That was the only thing on the list. Under that name was a bunch of menial details that Matthew felt the need to be troubled about. One of those is the interview with Feliks today. The newsman really wanted to stay in bed today, but it seemed he almost made his boss take a piece of his soul so he made a mental note to never try and skip work again. So now, Matthew was left to endure the potential headache soon to form with the events he had conjured in his mind.

He just knew Alfred would humiliate him today. He can feel it.

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"Excuse me, coming through!"

Clothes rack after clothes rack passed by swiftly as haggard dress and make-up crew members ran through the hallway. Some held various clothing and even wigs in their midst while others held large utility boxes as they pushed the racks. In the crew's rush, a long blond wig fell on the carpeted floor unnoticed.

Alfred stared at the pseudo-hair and a light blush graced his features.

Elizaveta tried not to squeal at her talent's expression. Instead, she waved a hand in front of Alfred's face, "Alfred, sweetie? Are you listening?"

The actor cleared his throat and nodded. "Y-yeah, I was just thinking of something, is all."

"A bit distracted? I can't blame you, especially with what you plan to do later." She said with a dismissive shrug. "Relax, okay?"

Alfred sighed, "I've consulted the script with them for the past few days. In the end, they brought their boss into a mess." The actor paused and snorted, "Imagine my surprise when I found out who their boss was! Man, I missed that bushy-browed monster."

"I believe he nearly suffocated you the moment he finished reading your revised script?"

The artist huffed, "He said he didn't want Mattie to be humiliated on live television. But really, how can he be humiliated? I thought it would be awesome! In the end, they trashed the serenade part, but they let me keep a few lines." Alfred grinned at the brunette. "I'll definitely win him back with this."

Elizaveta smiled, "I know you will." She said and the young artist skipped away from her towards the end of the hallway. Once he was a good distance away, she started giggling maniacally and grinned in a way that would have scared children away. She flipped out her phone and started typing a message for someone.

"And if doesn't work, _we'll_ just have to help out." She chuckled eerily.

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"You still love him."

Matthew whimpered and tried to bury his face further into the soft cushions of his cousin's couch. He was currently in the older man's office. He wanted to talk to someone about his woes, but it seemed he made a poor choice. Maybe this was an indicator of his lack of friends? Matthew didn't care, really. Talking to Francis was better than no one.

"You still love Alfred."

"I think we've established that, Francis." Matthew mumbled through the cushions. The older man clapped his hands in glee and Matthew groaned despite the fine blush on his cheeks.

Francis beamed, "_Merveilleux_! Now, how about you get back together, hmm?"

"Fuck, no." Matthew snarled and his cousin looked scandalized. The young newsman coughed awkwardly and apologized for cursing. "I—I don't know, Francis. I want to but I then remember what happened and I just want to pummel his face with a hockey stick."

"It has been a while since you have last played hockey."

"Yes, three years actually—what, don't change the subject!" Matthew hissed and Francis laughed. The younger of the two released an exasperated sigh. Tired, indigo eyes gazes sadly at the older and Matthew sighed again, "Just—I love Alfred, okay? But if he still acts like an oblivious fool then I see no reason to be with him again."

"If he tries, will you give the boy a chance?"

Matthew worried his lip, "I don't know." He said and buried his face into the cushions again.

Francis clicked his tongue and pulled out his phone.

"You would need to decide soon, _mon cher_." Francis whispered to himself and began to reply to a message he had received. "In three hours, to be precise." He laughed quietly.

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"Sir, Mr. Jones and Ms. Héderváry have arrived."

Matthew looked up from his papers and nodded. "Good." He said and returned to his papers.

"Mr. Williams?"

Matthew looked up again. "Yes?"

"Won't you come and overlook the interview?"

"No."

The assistant blinked curiously, "Sir?"

"I won't go to the set. It'll be fine; I'll watch the segment here." He said and pointed to the flat screen television installed in his office. "Francis will be there should there be any problem."

There was a short silence and the door to his office finally creaked open and shut silently. Matthew heaved a sigh of relief. The little talk he had with Francis drained him of his energy. He can't possibly face his former boyfriend now.

"Did I just call him my boyfriend?" Matthew asked himself in disbelief. "Oh God, I did, didn't I?"

Matthew grumbled and reached for the remote control. With one press on a button, the television came to life and featured the late afternoon news._ Yapping with the Stars_, Feliks segment, will be on in thirty minutes. He has seen the initial script but he had not seen the final copy. God knows what alterations they made and he just hopes this short, three-minute interview would not ruin his life.

"Please have mercy." Matthew murmured hopefully and focused his attention on the screen.

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"Git, if the lad commits suicide, I will throttle your neck." Arthur Kirkland hissed at the young actor who just laughed obnoxiously. "I'm serious."

"C'mon Artie, I won't do anything that would kill my Mattie," Alfred said in a faintly possessive but cheerful tone. The other man just sounded a bit over-protective and it kind of irked the actor. "Just sit back and watch the show!"

Arthur was about to argue again, but a news crew member butted in. "Mr. Jones, two minutes!" the crew member shouted.

Alfred nodded at the crew member. He grinned at Arthur and earned a scowl back. Alfred harrumphed and made a move to go to where Feliks was waiting.

When Arthur was left alone, Francis came in and filled the position of Alfred.

"You cannot stop _l'amour, _Arthur." The Frenchman laughed and the Englishman growled.

"I cannot afford to lose a good segment producer, frog." Arthur said and folded his arms across his chest. When Matthew had joined _Allied News Network _three years ago, Arthur was so happy (though he'd never say that out loud). He finally had sensible news on the headlines. Though Matthew focused on show business now, the young newsman's skills had managed to help the rest of the network to make good news.

Frankly, Arthur calls Matthew an angel of miracles, but the lad didn't need to know that.

"We won't lose _Mathieu_," Francis chuckled and pushed the other to go forward and watch the live news. "Come now, your little brother's interview is about to start."

"He is not my little brother!"

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

Matthew fidgeted as he stared at the television screen. Papers had been reading previously were now being crumpled under his grasp. He watched as Belle, the female news anchor for the late afternoon news, finished her segment. Belle laughed at the end and said, "_And now, __Feliks Łukasiewicz__ for the showbiz news!_"

"_Thank you, Belle._" Feliks started. Matthew pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and gnawed the poor thing. "_You guys won't believe who we have here with us today! Like, really! Welcome, Alfred!_"

The camera zoomed out and showed Feliks and Alfred sitting on some high stools. The actor flashed the camera a megawatt smile and Matthew' heart jumped. "_Thanks, I'm glad to be here!_" Alfred said.

"_Alfred, you've totally become a big thing on television! What do you have to say about that?_"

"_I don't know,_" Alfred laughed. Matthew didn't notice his lips were quirking up a bit. "_I just love acting and I love entertaining people and by God, I am glad people love me._"

Feliks laughed. Matthew chuckled a bit too. "_We do love you, Alfred. Now let me get to the main question; your fans have gone crazy trying to find out whether you're dating someone or not! So tell me, Alfred, are you?_"

Matthew's eyes dilated. "That wasn't part of the script!" the segment producer shouted and threw the papers in his grasp up. They were suppose to talk about Alfred's career and his future projects! Nothing personal at all! "What the hell, what the hell?"

Alfred was laughing. "_Well no, I'm not dating anyone but… how do I say this? I'm single but my heart is taken?_"

"What!"

"_Oh do tell, Alfred. Who is the luck gal that has taken your heart?_"

Alfred started laughing hysterically and Feliks eyed him in confusion. The actor waved him off, "_No, no. It's not a girl._"

"_Oh my gosh, big revelation right here!_" Feliks flailed his arms around. Matthew could hear surprised gasps in the background. The camera changed field of view and showed the reactions of the other reporters. The news anchors had some interesting expressions on their features. The camera went back to Feliks and Alfred. "_A man has taken Alfred F. Jones' heart? Wow!_"

"_Yeah… and he has for eight years now._" Alfred said in a more subdued voice. Feliks gasped.

"No, no, no! What the hell! What the hell!" Matthew protested and stood up from his desk. There was no way he could make it in time to stop the actor from doing whatever he had planned now. Matthew cursed himself for being too weak to go into the set.

"_Are you okay, Alfred?_" Alfred nodded and Feliks coughed uncomfortably. "_Well, do you have anything you want to say to that man?_"

"_Actually,_" Alfred stood up and faced the camera. Matthew watched in mortification as Alfred flashed another megawatt grin. He didn't notice Feliks snickering at the side. The camera zoomed in on Alfred a bit.

"_Yeah, I've got something to say._"

"Oh dear God," Matthew choked out. He was blushing now but he does not know whether it is in anger or because Alfred looked so damn handsome at the moment.

"_Matthew Williams, I love you._" Matthew spluttered and blushed more at that. The actor was smiling fondly at the camera, but from the angle it was taken, it almost seemed like Alfred was really in his office talking to him. Matthew mentally cursed. If the actor wanted to speak to him, then he could have done it in person. Why bother using mass media?

"_I know you're still mad at me for… you know—dressing you up as a girl,_" Matthew seethed. "_But please, forgive me? Like I told you back in the agency, I will make you fall in love with me again! So yeah, be prepared, Matthew Williams. The hero always gets the girl!_"

"Y-y-you," Matthew stuttered and pointed accusingly at the television screen. "I will end you!"

Feliks clapped in the background and the camera zoomed out. "_Totally convincing, Alfred! Anything else?_" the reporter said.

"_Oh, next month I'm going on a short tour with the rest of the cast of _Fallen Hero_!_" Alfred beamed and gazed at the camera again. "_Aaand, I love you Mattie!_"

"_Alfred, like, you are so cute!_" Feliks said with a giggle. "_Well, we're out of time! Thank you for the opportunity, Alfred!_"

"_Thank you too._"

Feliks nodded, "_Back to you, Belle!_"

"_T-thank you, Feliks. Um, up next! Two men involved in a scandal—_"

Matthew turned off the television viciously. Just when he thought he could forgive the moron, Matthew thought. He arranged all his belongings silently and left his office. He went past the hallways swiftly and ignored the curious looks his co-workers gave him. He went straight to his car in the parking lot. Before he could open the car door though, a loud familiar voice screamed his name. Matthew blushed but growled at the voice. He yanked the door open and turned on the engine. Matthew left the vicinity in just a few moments.

Then, his cellphone rang.

"What?" Matthew snapped at the caller.

"_Why'd you leave so soon? We haven't talked yet! Did you watch the—_"

"Yes, Alfred _fucking _Jones, I watched the news." The newsman hissed and ended the call. The phone rang again and Matthew rejected the call and turned off the device.

When he arrived at his apartment building, the doorman looked at him in surprise.

"A bit early today, Mr. Williams?" the man asked.

"Not in the mood today, man. Leave me alone," Matthew half-snarled and stomped over to the elevator. In a few more moments, he was now in his apartment and recalling his former boyfriend's bold confessions earlier. Matthew knew he would be swarmed by other reporters now.

He'd probably start receiving eerie death threats from crazy fans again.

Oh joy.

…

…

…

…

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><p><strong>AN: **I know, I know. I've updated late again. ;w; Anyway, I couldn't update mainly because of senior high school workload. It's annoying as fu…dge. Fudge. Yep. Also because of procrastination, but I think you guys already know that**/shot. **Preparation for college is also a reason. Family being a female canine is also a reason. Being distracted by stories on FictionPress is also a reason—what? There are lots of awesome stories there, I couldn't help it… ehe~ I've been reading slash there, just so you know. Hahahahahha**/shot. **I think by March I'd be able to update regularly.

Ah, I had a hard time writing this chapter, by the way. I really wanted to tone down on the angst a bit so I had to keep reading the whole thing again and again just so I don't start writing depressing things. I ended up writing five versions of this chapter before I got this. xP Basically you just read chapter three version six. ;A; That's also why I didn't bother writing more about Matthew and Alfred's break up, but if you want to know what really happened… well, I guess I could write a oneshot for it? I really don't want too much drama in this story… just fail-crack, romance, comedy and cheesy whatevs. Tell me if you want the oneshot! Or if you want me to incorporate it into the story then… I'll try? Tell me what you want, 'kay?

Sorry for the grammar and spelling mistakes! My writing isn't of the best condition at the moment due to demanding English teachers making us write essays, research papers and shi…ny rainbows. Shiny rainbows.

**Reviews are always welcomed!**


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! ;w;

**Warnings**: Out-of-Character-ness, language, and that's it I think… for now.

**Disclaimer**: not Hidekaz Himaruya so Axis Powers: Hetalia isn't mine.

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

Alfred F. Jones raised a brow at his cellphone as the other end of the line beeped away for a moment and went silent. Matthew rejected his call a few minutes ago and now he could not even contact the other. A few employees on the set glanced at him curiously while they cleaned up and prepared for their next tasks. The actor blinked several times before he pocketed his phone and approached the Englishman and Frenchman standing right where he had left them.

"Well," Alfred started upon stopping in front of the two. "Matthew's feisty today."

The Englishman glowered at him while the Frenchman smiled in amusement. He shrugged and the glowering man released an irritated groan.

"Did you actually think that the young man would be _happy _about it?" Arthur asked incredulously and flailed his hands. "You even revealed—on-screen—that he was the girl from three years ago!"

"I didn't reveal it," the actor argued and frowned, "I just said that I know he's still angry about the whole cross-dressing thing."

"It's the same thing!"

"Now, now," Francis cut in and held the infuriated Englishman firmly by the shoulders to prevent him from strangling the young artist. The Frenchman sighed, "I am sure that Mathieu is doing just fine—"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Please, if anything, Matthew is probably listing down creative ways of killing this idiot." He said and pointed accusingly at Alfred.

"Yeah," Alfred agreed and Francis looked at him in surprise. "He's probably on number twenty-three by now."

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

"Drowning him in a kiddy pool will be number twenty-four!" Matthew shouted angrily at his companion, the doorman who looked very amused at the moment, watched him with slight hilarity. "And then—wait, dude, are you listing them down? List them down!"

"Yes," the doorman hummed from his seat and waved a piece of paper in front of Matthew. "See. My personal favorite is number seventeen, by the way. Although, I don't think offering him to a bunch of his rabid fans will kill him. He'll more likely be raped."

Matthew blinked at the list and blushed. He was being passive-aggressive again.

After moping around in his apartment for several minutes, he decided that he needed someone to vent out his frustrations to. Being the socially retarded man that he was, he did not have any friends that could readily join him in his miseries. Most of them were busy at work and the young newsman did not want to bother them. And so, he ran down to the ground floor and asked the doorman of the apartment complex if he could listen to him.

He was that desperate.

"S-sorry, I'm bothering you, am I?" Matthew muttered and took the paper from the doorman.

Said doorman snorted, "Please, boy. I'm pretty sure people can open doors for themselves. What, have they amputated their arms?"

The newsman laughed, "True. I really don't get the point of your job," the doorman choked at the words and Matthew panicked, "S-sorry! I didn't mean to offend you! Sorry!"

To his surprise, the doorman laughed loudly, "You're really blunt, aren't you Mr. Williams?" the newsman blushed and the other man chuckled once again, "I can see why Mr. Jones couldn't let you go; you're endearing."

Matthew's eyes widened and he stuttered, "How—how do you know about Jones?"

"Television," the doorman answered and pointed to a high-definition television mounted up on the wall behind the concierge's desk. It was featuring the rest of the late afternoon news he had watched back in his office. Matthew's eye twitched violently at the sight.

The doorman snickered, "Will you give him a chance?"

"You're like my cousin," Matthew grumbled and rolled his eyes. He paused for a moment and glared accusingly at the man, "And you sound like Alfred's manager."

"Mr. Williams, anyone would ask you that question now that it's been announced." The doorman reasoned. "I expect people from the various media coming to this apartment complex by tomorrow, if Mr. Jones was that popular, that is."

"He is," the newsman sighed tiredly and slammed his head down on the doorman's podium. "Maybe I should go abroad for awhile; hide in China, perhaps?"

"If you want the rest of the world to be involved, then, go ahead." The doorman nodded and started arranging his belongings. His shift was about to end. Matthew just whined.

"Boy, you shouldn't run away from this."

"Whatever, man."

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

Elizaveta could barely hide the maniacal smirk spread on her face as she led her talent to the car. Back in set, she had found out that Mr. Williams had left the vicinity right after the interview with Feliks. At first, it disappointed her because she expected Matthew to at least storm into the set at cuss Alfred like there was no tomorrow. However, she quickly got over that and decided that there was always Plan B, Plan C, and Plan D. Well, she actually had the rest of the English alphabet to back her up. She chuckled darkly.

"Uh, Liz?" the young actor cut in and the talent manager snapped out of her thoughts. "You were laughing?"

"It's nothing, dear." she smiled sweetly and gestured for Alfred to get in the car once they have reached it. She waved her phone off-handedly when his talent did not seem to buy it, "I was just reading a funny message a friend of mine sent."

"Ah," Alfred nodded and grinned. He vaulted himself into the backseat of the vehicle and closed the door. Once his manager was on the wheel, he started. "Hey, what do you think should I do now?"

The woman smirked, but wiped it away in favor of an innocent smile. "What do you mean?"

"Well, obviously I made Mattie mad again." Alfred bit his lip and sighed, "You think it would work if I just asked him out for dinner?"

"Of course not," Elizaveta instantly answered. The actor instantly agreed as well. Although the woman knew that Matthew would actually agree to that simple gesture and probably take him back through a few more dates.

But what was the fun in that?

"Right, right! Bland stuff like that won't work. I mean, when I asked him out back then, he didn't say yes until I talked to the principal and took over the PA in our high school."

"You asked him out through the PA? What did you say?" the woman asked, genuinely surprised. From the rearview mirror, she saw Alfred shake his head.

"No, I've been asking him out for at least two weeks before that." Alfred paused in his reverie. A light dusting of pink graced his cheeks. "He kinda stopped me before I could say anything."

The woman wanted to squeal, but instead calmly inquired, "Oh? What did he do?"

"He pushed me off of the swivel chair and kissed me and, uh," the actor swallowed and blushed even more, "Well, uh, we made out… in the PA room."

Elizaveta shrieked. Alfred recognized the sound to be similar to that of his female fans whenever he gave them a million-watt smile. He did not smile though, thus, Alfred reeled back into his seat at the sound. The woman started fanning herself with her hands like she was hyperventilating. _I think she is, _Alfred thought.

It was a good thing they have not started driving yet.

"Liz? Y-you okay?"

"Yes," the talent manager gushed out and coughed. She giggled for a few seconds and flipped out her phone. "Don't worry~ Ah, well, for now I think you don't have to do anything."

As his manager started texting, Alfred just said, "Huh?"

"Just prepare for your tour with the cast of _Fallen Hero_," The woman muttered a little eerily. The young actor laughed awkwardly and nodded.

"W-whatever you say…"

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

Matthew watched the metropolis below him come to life as he started on his breakfast. As he nibbled on a piece of toast, he glanced at a box he had brought out awhile ago and reached into it. From the box, he pulled out a clean white envelope. The newsman sighed at the sight of it and opened it. He was halfway through it when a particular sentence made him choke on the toast he was eating.

It was not every day that Matthew would receive letters. Even back in his high school years, he rarely received letters. Nowadays, he received a lot more text messages and electronic mails from his clients, colleagues, interviewees and bosses than the good-old envelope with the stamp. With today's current modes of communication, snail-mail letters have become a bit obsolete to the modern person.

Apparently, crazy fan girls still preferred it though.

"I wonder how they managed to get my address so quickly," Matthew hummed thoughtfully in a faintly sarcastic and horrified tone, "I tried so hard to hide from the lime light too…"

It has been two days since the interview with Alfred. Unlike three years ago, he was not immediately cornered by reporters. Like his doorman had said, he expected a visit from them first thing in the morning after the interview. Fortunately, he was greeted only by his fellow apartment owners and, well, the doorman. Even when he went to work, he was not attacked by any media related personnel—except for his secretary, Francis and Arthur, of course.

But still, he did not anticipate his letters (see: death threats) to arrive so soon.

Matthew shivered as he folded the letter; towards the end of the note, it featured a would-be murder scene worthy of Hollywood. He wondered how such creative minds could have made it big in the set design business or script writing if they had not been obsessed with their idols—particularly that blond idiot.

The segment producer shook his head and pushed the letter back into the box. He headed to his room and threw his weight on the bed. From the drawer of his bedside table, he pulled out the recorder he had used for his interview with Alfred.

"_You will fall in love with me again!_" It blared as Matthew pressed a button.

Well, it was not like the actor needed to do anything. Matthew just wondered when his stupid pride issues will let him forgive Alfred. Perhaps as a _man_ this time around, he would be able to control the actor's spontaneous get-ups. The young newsman sighed and pressed the record button.

"I still love you, idiot." The young newsman whispered to the recorder. A smile was about to crack in his features when his mobile phone rang.

Matthew minutely panicked and quickly answered, "H-hello?"

"_Matthew, are you planning on being absent today?_" An accented voice gruffly asked. It was Arthur Kirkland, his boss.

"No sir!" he replied hastily and glanced warily at the clock on his bedside table. It was still early, but for some reason, it looked like it was already so late. "I-I'll be there in a few…"

"_No, no. I was actually expecting you to take leave today,_" Matthew tensed at the words. Arthur sighed, "_I just called to let you know that it's okay to be absent for a day or two. Or three, or four—I really don't know._"

Matthew did not know how much Arthur knew about his little issue with Alfred, but his boss ought to know _a lot _if he was offering him a few days off. The only times the man allowed a leave was if it were a matter of life and death. Well, if the letters he had been receiving were any indication, then yes, it was already a matter of life and death.

(Of course, he did not know that he was Arthur's angel of miracles—he _really_ did not need to know that.)

"_Ah, well, we've received some phone calls, e-mails and letters for you. Most of them we're from extreme fans of the git._" Matthew raised a brow at his boss's preferred nickname for his former boyfriend. The man continued, "_Although some warmly accepted the fact that you and Alfred are an item, the rest were a bit… dangerous._"

Ah, some of his death threats reached his office—wait. Matthew paused. Some fans liked the fact that their idol was in love with a man? The segment producer felt his eye twitch and sighed, "I guess I'll take you up on that offer, sir."

"_Good choice, lad. There's one more thing," _the Englishman paused as if he contemplated on continuing. Matthew coughed uncomfortably and the man went on,_ "Most of the phone calls and e-mails requested some sort of interview with you._"

The younger swallowed, "And?"

"_Bonnefoy," _his boss practically spat that name,_ "Bonnefoy accepted all of them._"

Matthew gaped, "W-what?" As if on cue, his cousin's laughter echoed in the background. "He accepted _all_ of them?"

"_Unfortunately,_" Arthur sighed. More laughter from the Frenchman caused the Englishman to growl. Matthew heard some rustling when, all of the sudden, the call ended after another bout of Francis' '_ohonhonhon~_' and a loud cracking noise. The segment producer did not want to know what caused it.

Matthew calmly lowered his phone and placed it down on his bedside table. He breathed in deeply and lied down on his back on the bed. He closed his eyes and continued his breathing exercise. After a few moments, he grabbed one of his pillows and covered his face. Soon after, he screamed.

He was now incapable of running away from the media, thanks to Francis.

The newsman would have to _thank _him properly later.

…

…

…

…

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><p><strong>AN: **Nyaa~/shot. I'm sooooooory! ;w; That is it. I will never **ever **promise deadlines ever again. Oh, in case you missed what I said before, I just graduated from high school last week. Guess what I'm taking for college? Financial M**—shot.** Nyahaha~ I'm not even going to my dream school. ;w; Oh well~ I kinda love Mathematics soooo~ whatever~ Y'know, you can stop reading the author's note now if you want to~ **anyway…**

LOL, Matthew's such good friends with the doorman. xP The doorman is not even a Hetalia character, but if you want to imagine him as a Hetalia character, go ahead. I didn't give the dude any physical traits anyway~ He's not an old OC either. I just really needed someone that Matthew can rant to. I didn't want to drag in another Hetalia character without making the story more complicated. ;w; Whoo! God, Matt! Just take Al back alreadeh~ But like Elizaveta thought, _what's the fun in that_? Oh yeah, you just read chapter four version five, by the way. Nyaha.

You know I really have no excuse not to update regularly as it's already summer vacation here in my country. But once I enter college, summer vacation will be meaningless~ wahaha.

**Why the hell am I laughing?** ;w;

Sorry for the spelling mistakes, grammar mistakes, idiocy of author and story, inability to proofread, inability to update as promised and yeahh~

Just kill meh~ ;w;

Or you could leave reviews. That would be nice t**/shot.**


	5. Chapter 5

Oh hai~ :DD**/shot.**

**Warnings**: Out-of-Character-ness, language, author's idiocy, horrible grammar, inability to proofread

**Disclaimer**: not Hidekaz Himaruya so Axis Powers: Hetalia isn't mine.

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

"May we please speak to Mr. Williams?"

"He is not here at the mo—"

"Sir, what are your feelings towards _Axis' _top artist's infatuation with Mr. Williams?"

"I have no co—"

"Is it true that you are related to Alfred F. Jones?"

"We are not—we were just childhood fr—"

"Mr. Kirkland, it seems that people point at you for Mr. Williams past cross-dressing; how do you feel about that?"

"I didn't even know him then! Why in the world would I—"

"Is it true that you are in a secret relationship with Francis Bonnefoy?"

"What—no!"

The main entrance's glass doors rattled dangerously as the Briton shut off the annoying press clogging the front doors. The front door guards immediately locked the entrance and tried to ignore the harsh glares directed at them and Arthur. The employees near the guests' waiting area swallowed roughly as he turned around swiftly to show the press that there was no way he would entertain them now. However, he knew they will not give up—they always came back.

He should know; he used to be one of them.

(And because he knew, he specifically had a secret back door made available for late employees to use whenever the main entrance was blocked.)

"If anyone _dares _to let even a strand of those imbeciles' hair inside, they may submit their resignation letter _right_ _**now**_." Arthur hissed and shot daggers at those who released a whimper. The scared employees shook their heads fearfully and scampered off to their workstations.

Just as they left, he released a sigh and the front doors opened.

"Who the fuck opened it?" he screamed and turned around sharply to berate the moron who dared disobey him. "Close the door, for God's sake!"

Somehow, the tone and volume of his furious voice had made the persistent press to back away from the glass. Arthur did not pay heed to them, though, as he was wishing death upon the Frenchman who simply waltzed into the building with a box in hand.

Francis lit up at the sight of the Englishman and quickly crossed the distance to give the man a peck on the cheek. Cameras started flashing and he lingered his lips on the warm cheek a little longer. Arthur hissed and pushed his face away, but grabbed Francis' wrist and pulled him to the elevator.

"What the hell are you doing?" the Brit snapped. Francis merely grinned at him. "You idiot! God only knows what kind of screwed up news will be up by tonight!"

Arthur sighed exasperatedly and jabbed the elevator button angrily as the Frenchman behind him chortled casually. Of course, he would end up getting candid photos of him and Francis taken. Just great, he did not even know who of the paparazzi took pictures—there was no escape. He really should have invested on one-way glass windows and doors for the whole of his news station.

"Relax, _mon petit lapin,_ the press would have found out about us sooner or later anyway."

The Brit practically growled, "There **isn't** _**anything**_the press would have found out about _**us**__._ Don't make things up, frog." Francis laughed loudly, nearly dropping the box he was carrying. Arthur gritted his teeth, "And you're late, bastard."

The stubbled man waved him off, "Oh, Arthur, you really should not make a fuss about everything." He said and readjusted his grip on the box. It caught the Englishman's attention.

"What is that?"

Francis smiled, "Fan letters for _Mathieu_," He ignored Arthur's muttering of _death threats_, "Ms. Héderváry gave them to me."

Arthur ran a hand through his sandy hair tiredly, "We'll sort them out in my office." He said and exited the elevator as soon as it stopped on his floor. He led the way to his office and allowed Francis to drop the box on his table after they had entered.

"Apparently, a lot of letters arrived at _Axis _for _Mathieu_. He is quite popular now, _non_?" The Frenchman laughed and carefully laid out the contents of the box on Arthur's wide desk.

The emerald-eyed man plopped down on his leather swivel chair and frowned at the amount of envelopes on the wooden surface. "I bet they all contain bloody murder."

Francis hummed and picked up a letter as he sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. He blinked at the oddly pink paper and delicately tore the side of the envelope. Another pink shaded paper fluttered out. He cocked his head to a side.

"I do not think so."

Arthur's frown deepened as he swiped the pink note from Francis and began to read the text.

"_Dear Mattie, you are so~ adorable! I'm glad that Alfred chose you—I would have died if he fell in love with someone butt-ugly. You two look cute together! It's too bad you can't get pregnant; the kids would've looked soo~ cute as well! You know, I'm studying medicine right now. Maybe we can find out a way you can bear children of your own! I wanna be your first child's godmother, okay? But oh my God, please~ forgive Alfie? He really loves you and—_"

Arthur stopped reading and slammed the paper down on the desk. The Frenchman jumped slightly as he was busy reading another letter himself.

"What is wrong with this woman?" Arthur asked and pointed accusingly at the pink note.

Francis blinked and grabbed the letter. He skimmed through the text and chuckled, "This one is enthusiastic."

"She's insane!"

The stubbled man shrugged half-heartedly and gestured for the other man to continue their task. Arthur grumbled and grabbed a white envelop about the size of a short bond paper. He scrunched his brows and tore it open. It took him awhile to process the contents of the envelope. He stared at it, face straight at first, but immediately blushed a pretty shade of red after a few seconds and slammed his hands down the contents. Francis jumped again.

"What is wrong?" Francis asked and peered down at Arthur's hands. The Brit could no longer stand to look—_to touch—_the papers and swiftly swung his swivel chair around. The Frenchman raised a brow and scanned the abandoned letter. He smirked. "Well, what do we have here~ so is this what they call _fan art_."

Arthur spluttered and swung his seat around to face Francis, "I see no _art _in two full grown men _shagging_!" he said and glanced at the _fan art _and turned beet red once again. How did those fans nail the details of Matthew and Alfred's _features_? Of course, he had not seen either of the two fully _naked_, but still; as a man, he felt violated.

"_Mathieu _would be happy to see this!"

"Git, don't even _think _of showing that to him!"

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

Matthew shifted on the couch as he stared at the flat screen. The host of the late night show laughed along with the audience as the blue-eyed blond regaled them with a short story. As the young actor finished, the host playfully pushed his shoulder and moved on, "_So Alfred, when did you start batting for the other team?_"

Alfred smiled, "_I wouldn't necessarily say that I 'batted for the other team', but y'see, it was just Matthew from the very beginning._"

Matthew hid his face deeper into the pillow he was holding as the squeals and cheers of the audience echoed around the room—surround sound _did _have its downsides. Did Alfred really _have _to say that? He could have just said that a particular point in time. For example, when he was in high school—after all, that _was _when they had started dating.

"_We dated for eight years._" Alfred's voice cut his thoughts. Matthew whined.

Great, the young actor was talking about their past. Matthew would not be surprised if he started talking about his cross-dressing now.

The host gasped, "_Why, that's such a long time! Why did you break up?_"

"As predicted," Matthew muttered and frowned. To his surprise, Alfred just shook his head and sighed sadly.

"_I did something incredibly stupid and made him angry._"

The young newsman froze. He was not expecting that. Matthew does not understand why he even bothered watching Alfred when his answers were the same all throughout. From the previous live interviews and television appearances he had watched these past two days, Alfred always laughed and said, "_I made him wear a skirt._" In fact, one interviewer slipped and replied, "_Kinky~_". Matthew wanted to annihilate the bastard.

"_What was it about a 'skirt' then?_" the host asked cautiously. The camera angle changed to show the audience who looked eager to know more. Matthew groaned, "Gossip-mongers."

"_I'd rather not talk about it._" Alfred said and offered a weak smile. "_I really shouldn't have put him through it._"

"_O-oh_, _very well then. So how is the production of _Fallen Hero _going?_"

"_It's going great—_"

Matthew turned off the television with trembling hands. He was not trembling because he was furious though. For once after three years, he was actually trembling because he was embarrassed—in a good way too. He may or may not have wanted to jump up and throw himself at the screen so that he could try to hug the other blond… like he always did, back when they were dating. How did Alfred make him like this?

"What am I thinking?" Matthew murmured and willed himself to stop blushing. He sighed—he needed some distractions. Just as he thought that, his mobile phone started ringing. He checked the caller ID and saw that it was Francis. Matthew sighed again and answered the phone.

"_Bonsoir, Mathieu!_"

Matthew bit his lip and answered, "I need to go back to work."

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

"Alfred!"

The young actor turned around to see his manager stomping angrily towards him. He still waved cheerfully at her though.

"Alfred, why did you change your answers?" Elizaveta said and crossed her arms. Alfred scratched his head in discomfort and laughed nervously.

"I—it's just that I think the 'I made him wear a skirt' line would make Mattie even madder."

Elizaveta did not look impressed. The woman grabbed the actor by the arm and dragged him into his assigned dressing room. She started berating him for disobeying. Alfred just stared blankly at her.

Alfred did not exactly know how she thought Matthew would come back to him if he kept pressing his past cross-dressing even further. If anything, he thought it would just make his Canadian want to murder him in public. Alfred was not _that _stupid.

"Liz, I hate to break it to ya, but the skirt thing hasn't even given me a call from Mattie." He said with a pout and cut off Elizaveta's rant. The brunette massaged her temple and sighed.

"I told you to just focus on the _Fallen Hero _tour." She said in defeat and slumped into one of the chairs in the room. He could not have Alfred ruin her plan. "You leave tomorrow, remember?"

"I'll be fine," Alfred argued in exasperation. Sometimes his manager acted too much like his mother did.

Elizaveta sighed exasperatedly and pulled out her phone. She ignored Alfred as he flitted about the room, hunting for the stash of food he asked the management to keep for him. She browsed through her photo gallery and grinned at the images—she had a new one in her collection. Someone had sent a wonderful fan art of Alfred and Matthew a while ago and she loved it.

Before her nose started bleeding, she received a text message.

_The "I did something incredibly stupid" line worked! :)_

Elizaveta gaped. She glanced up from her phone's screen to see Alfred blissfully stuffing potato chips into his mouth. She shook her head in disbelief, but smirked.

Well, it seemed she had miscalculated a few things.

"But I know he'll still fall for it…" she whispered and chuckled darkly

"D'you say somethin' Liz?"

"Nothing~"

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

"Mr. Williams, please wait!"

The young segment producer made a mad dash for his car as reporters armed with cameras and recorders ran after him. He really should have woken up earlier to avoid them. He managed to get in the vehicle and start the engine quickly enough to speed out of the open parking lot. Matthew breathed out in relief as the people pursuing him vanished from his view on the side mirror.

Just as he eased up his speed, a few cars started appearing behind him. He minutely froze when a man popped out of the window of one of the vehicles with a camera. He swallowed.

"They're not giving up," he said to himself.

He could not blame them. He had managed to hide from them for two days, after all. After finally seeing him, why would they waste the chance? Matthew whimpered at how he knew these people so well—he was one of them, after all.

Still, Matthew floored it and speeded away from the cars.

When he was a safe distance away (thank goodness for stoplights!), he smiled. The façade of _ANN's _building came into view and he grinned. He slowed down a maneuvered his car into his usual parking slot and sighed in relief—he made it.

Matthew gathered his belongings from the car and started for the front doors.

His relief immediately turned into panic as another swarm of reporters advanced in his direction.

"Mr. Williams! Could we please have a moment with you?"

Perhaps it was very unprofessional of him, but all Matthew could do at that moment was shake his head fervently with his belongings clutched close to his chest and run away, leaving the reporters stunned.

"Wait—why did you take a picture of him?" one of the reporters asked a photographer.

The photographer shrugged as he reviewed the shot he had taken.

"He looked cute."

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

"Why the bloody hell did you schedule his interviews on the sameday _and _time on his _day off_?"

"It… was an accident?"

Arthur's eye twitched violently at the lame excuse. Who would believe that it was an _accident_? He breathed in deeply and exhaled. He really should not have left Francis to deal with the e-mails and phone calls for Matthew.

"Okay," The sandy-haired man breathed, "Okay. Interviewers are making their way to this building as we speak. How do you propose we fix this, hmm?"

"Well, _cher_, I—"

"Mr. Kirkland!"

Arthur groaned as a troubled-looking employee barged right into his office. The employee wheezed for a few seconds and wailed, "Sir, the reporter we assigned for the FH tour has not arrived!"

"What?" the Englishman asked in disbelief, "What do you mean he is not back? I have not sent Yao to any projects!"

"B-but sir, didn't w-we send him to get on-the-field updates for Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo's tour in E-Europe?"

"Tour in Europe," Arthur repeated, slack-jawed. "I sent Vargas, I didn't…" He turned to Francis and saw that the man was busy on the phone. Oh, he was going to **kill **this wine-guzzling bastard.

"Mr. Kirkland?"

The Englishman ruffled his hair tiredly and screamed. The employee backed away slightly until Arthur had calmed down a bit.

"Who's available right now?" Arthur breathed as he glared at the Frenchman who was now laughing as he talked with the person on the phone.

The employee gulped, "N-no one, sir."

"Bloody he—"

He was cut short as another person stumbled into his office. He barely held himself back from cursing the poor soul as he recognized the newcomer.

"Matthew?" Arthur scrunched his brows. The segment producer was breathing heavily like he had been running all day and he looked disheveled. "What are you doing here?"

"'M sorry," Matthew huffed out, "The—there were interviewers in m-my office, I—I had to hide s-somewhere…"

The Brit shook his head, "No, no. I meant, what are you doing at work? Didn't I tell you to take several days off?"

"B-but Francis said t-that you'd let me w-work again today—"

Another employee, Matthew's assistant this time, barged in. "Mr. Williams! They are waiting for you!"

Matthew panicked again, "N-no! I can't talk to them today!"

"What's going on?" Arthur butted in.

The troubled employee cut in too, though. "Sir, we _really _need someone to fill in for the FH tour!"

The Englishman sighed exasperatedly, "Matthew, just go take a seat for a moment," he said to the young newsman and turned to the troubled employee. "Are you sure we can't pull out someone else from another project?"

"No, sir; all the on-screen reporters are needed in their posts."

Arthur groaned and slumped into a swivel chair nearby. What was he to do now? He cannot go himself—he was needed here. He _will not _trust the wine-bastard to do it either. Damn it all.

"Mr. Kirkland, is there something I can do?"

The green-eyed man glanced at Matthew who had somewhat regained composure. The younger man had a look of concern on his features. What can the lad possibly do? Arthur shook his head and looked down. He cannot send him to the tour. It was not as if he had experience… wait.

"_Matthew was a field reporter before._" Arthur thought. His eyes widened a fraction and looked up again, only to find Francis explaining their situation. The Englishman gritted his teeth.

"—and so, we need a field reporter. Would you like to help?" Francis asked innocently.

"I-I don't know—I haven't been on-screen for quite awhile—"

Arthur wanted to back him up and say, "Of course, lad. You're better off as a segment producer. Stay here," but the Frenchman had leaned down to whisper something to the younger man. Matthew stood up and marched up to the troubled employee.

Arthur's eyes went wide as Matthew clasped the shoulders of the man.

"I'll do it." Matthew stated firmly.

The troubled employee did not look so troubled now. "Oh thanks, Matt! I'll have your transportation and lodgings fixed right now! You leave at noon. Thanks so much!" he said and ran out of the room in visible glee.

The Englishman shook head and approached the segment producer. "No, Matthew, you can't. That tour is—"

"I can take it, Mr. Kirkland," Matthew smiled. "I'm sure I can get into the feel of things once I'm there. I'll be fine."

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but the purple-eyed blond had already walked out of his office. Matthew's assistant sighed and mournfully walked back to where she had left the already disgruntled interviewers. Arthur turned sharply to the Frenchman left in the room.

"You!" the bushy-browed man hissed, "What in blazes are you doing?"

"Why, _mon petit lapin, _I was only helping you." The man answered coolly.

"You're not—damn it," Arthur groaned and wrung his hands irately. "How did you even make the boy say yes?"

Francis chuckled, "I told him we could persuade the interviewers to back off of for a while because he'll be away for a month."

"What," the Englishman growled and stomped out of the room.

…

…

…

…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Sorry for the grammar and spelling mistakes. You know how much I hate proofreading, right?

This chapter… although it sounds weird and random… I dunno. xP Whatever. ;w;

Damn~ I updated late again. ;w; Oh whatever. No one reads this anyway**/shot. **Nyaha~ Sorry, I got lazy. That, and I got distracted. I was fixing my college application papers, trying to have a fun summer vacation (I failed on that part. ;w;) and reading stories on FictionPress. :DD**/shot. **Dude, seriously! There are good stories there! ;w;

Something funny, for me at least, I noticed that _The Chocolates Were Good, Very Good_ had thrice as much visitors than this story. I face-palmed at that. Human preferences are starting to scare me. ;w;

Oh, I got distracted with deviantArt too! I tried to be active there, for once. xP I pretty much am because I sorta check the site every day—even forgetting about FanFiction whenever I did. So yeahh~ I posted a few drawings there~ Come and take a look at my crappy art if you want to. ;w; Just search for **CookiePancakes** and that'll be me or you could go to my profile and you'll find the link to my DA account there~ you can talk to me there too. I'm a very lonely person. ;w; I needs meh frendzzzz~

Also, (non-existent) readers of _Cute Little Darling_, I'm really sorry. I'm having a huge writer's block on that one. It's kinda weird because it's the first multi-chaptered story I wrote, but it's still not done. xP ;w; Kill me now.

Tell me what you think? Please leave me a review! ;w;


	6. Chapter 6

I would apologize for the extremely late update, but I think you're all tired of that**/shot. **:DD

A little note though, I changed a few things in the previous chapter—specifically the last part. I would suggest you read that first before diving into this one because I really don't want any of you thinking that Canada is acting a bit different from how he was in the previous chapter.

**Warnings**: Out-of-Character-ness, language, author's idiocy, horrible grammar, inability to proofread

**Disclaimer**: not Hidekaz Himaruya so Axis Powers: Hetalia isn't mine.

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

Alfred loved going on tours, whether for vacation or for work, as he loved going to different places and meeting new people; he especially enjoys going on a tour for his projects as an actor. Perhaps it was the giddy feeling he gets from knowing that there was a crowd out there waiting for him. It was not exactly an egotistical reason, but it was something more along the lines of, "You reap what you have sown." The fact that he had satisfied his fans' expectations was psychologically fulfilling, and the material rewards usually made him very pleased and flattered.

And so, the young actor was in a small conference room, sitting impatiently with his colleagues as he waited for the tour organizer to finish explaining what will happen for the day.

"Okay, to summarize, today's activities will involve a motorcade and a stage performance. There will be an autograph signing session afterwards. Also for the performance, the venue will most likely be a full house despite the lack of seats," Alfred perked up at that. The organizer noticed this and shot the actor a pointed look. "The circumstance may be perfect for it, but _please _do not attempt crowd-surfing—again."

Alfred pouted and harrumphed, "Fun-sucker."

The room erupted into amused murmurs and snickers as the young actor sulked. The organizer cleared his throat in an effort to focus all attention back to him.

"Remember that this is not a rock concert," the organizer began while fighting back a tired sigh. Working with young, energetic artist—specifically Alfred—made him feel like an old elementary school teacher. "We cannot afford any one of you to be injured."

"I didn't get hurt the first time." Alfred mumbled moodily, but the organizer just ignored him.

"The event doesn't start until three in the afternoon, so please relax first and try not to get into trouble." The organizer finished, directing the last bit mostly to Alfred, and dismissed the group. Ah, it was a good thing he never became a teacher.

Alfred jumped out of his seat and followed his manager out of the room. No sooner than stepping out of the door, the actor began to whine about being hungry; the tour might be exciting him a bit, but all of this was making him ravenous. Elizaveta giggled.

"Can we go to McDonald's? Please?" the actor begged.

The manager smiled, but shook her head, "Sorry, Al. No going to crowded fast food restaurants until the end of the tour."

Alfred looked horrified, "B-but—we can have them delivered, right?"

"Yes, yes. We can have your food delivered." Elizaveta chuckled as the actor heaved out a sigh of relief. She fell into step with Alfred and whispered, "So, got any calls from Matthew yet?"

Alfred frowned, "No."

The two stopped in front of a door leading to Alfred's private lounge. The actor pushed the door open and immediately took residence of the nearest couch, "Ah well, he'll come to. Just you wait!" he beamed and grabbed his phone to make a call for his food.

Elizaveta brought out her own phone and smirked.

"Oh he will, don't worry~" she said to herself.

"You wanted somethin', Liz?"

The manager waved him off, "Nothing~"

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

"Going on a trip, Mr. Williams?"

Matthew looked ahead to acknowledge the doorman of the apartment complex. He gave small smile and shook his head, "Not exactly. I'll be away for awhile, though. I was assigned to be a field-reporter."

The doorman nodded, "Oh that's good—better than being, cooped up in your room, at least." he said and laughed.

The newsman scowled and stomped over to the door attendant's podium, "W-well—oh, whatever." He stuttered.

"Charming," the doorman laughed and Matthew blushed, "What are you going to be a field-reporter for?"

"I—I haven't really read the papers they gave me since this assignment was a bit sudden, but I'm going to be a field-reporter for the _FH _tour, I think?" Matthew answered distractedly as he dragged his belongings towards the door.

The doorman blinked in surprise at what the newsman had said, "_FH _tour, but Mr. Williams, doesn't _FH _stand for—"

"Oh, there's my ride," the newsman cut him off. A car had pulled over in front of the apartment complex. Matthew turned to the doorman and smiled, "Well, see you in month or two, man."

The door attendant just nodded stiffly and waved goodbye. When Matthew had already left the area, the doorman shook his head and laughed.

"He didn't even realize what going to the _FH _tour meant."

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

From his apartment, the company driver immediately drove Matthew over to the airport with a freshly bought plane ticket shoved into his hands.

Matthew disliked airports. If he considered only the physical appearance, the segment producer liked airports, but the system within said establishments always threw him off. The idea of having to go through so many people just to get your butt on a seat in a flying piece of metal for a few minutes was discomfiting and annoying. As much as he liked meeting new people despite his introversion, he absolutely hated gathering unwanted attention—especially concerning his personal life and his past.

"Good morning, Mr. Williams!" a womangreeted him, a little too excitedly. Matthew held back a groan as she studied his face intently, ignoring his passport entries. "So _you're_ the girl three years ago! Damn, you actually have the curves to wear those dresses."

The blond did not know whether to take that as an insult or as a compliment. Instead, he tried to get the woman to pay attention to his papers and end the conversation. "Uhh, yeah, I was that… girl." Matthew murmured.

"I never thought I would see you in the flesh," she said and pushed the passport back out of the tiny slot, and into Matthew's hand. "Have a pleasant flight, Mr. Williams!"

The segment producer smiled tightly and nodded, "T-thanks." _Another one down, God-knows-how-many-more to go, _Matthew thought bitterly.

"You have become quite the celebrity nowadays, Matthew-kun."

Matthew jumped, startled by the voice, but sighed in relief as he realized who was addressing him.

Matthew offered a weak smile at the owner of the voice. He was his assigned cameraman, a Japanese man named Kiku Honda, and a good friend of his. With the unexpectedness of his assignment, Matthew was glad to have at least one friend in his crew to keep him sane during the tour. He may or may not attempt to voice out his frustrations to the Japanese man during the flight.

Kiku led him to the waiting area where the rest of the crewmembers were waiting. People around the area would turn their heads as they passed and Matthew could hear the comments directed at him—not a lot were bad, but the way civilians would casually talk about him was unnerving. He worried his lip at the thought and bowed his head lowly.

The cameraman walking beside him scrunched his brows lightly in concern.

"Matthew-kun," Kiku began, "Is something bothering you?"

Matthew looked up abruptly and nodded; "I'm not very fond of this kind of attention" He whispered and walked a little closer to the Japanese man when a group of girls pointed at him. The blond forced a whimper down. "It… brings back some things I'd rather forget."

"He must have done really terrible things to you," the Japanese man rued. The segment producer smiled painfully at the words. "I find it hard to believe that Alfred Jones-san physically abused you."

The Canadian snapped his head up in horror.

"No, no! God no, he didn't physically abuse me!" Matthew denied fervently, but the black haired man just tilted his head in confusion. "You've got it all wrong! Al didn't hurt me like _that_! He just—he just—uhh…"

Kiku blinked once and blushed as he realized his blunder, "O-oh, forgive me, Matthew-kun. It seems I had my facts wrong, _s-sumimasen._"

"I-It's okay," Matthew mumbled and sighed, "Just where did you get that idea from?"

"…"

The segment producer stared at the Japanese man intently. Kiku fidgeted.

"_Anou,_" Kiku coughed in discomfort, "I—I read it in a fan—"

The blond flushed and held a hand up weakly, "Please don't finish that sentence."

"_H-hontou, sumimasen dashita._"

"It's okay."

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

The sound of the door slamming open jolted the brunette from her position behind a desk in her temporary office. Papers went flying from her hands as she yelped, and she glared at the man waltzing into the room.

"Elizaveta!" a white-haired man shouted at her—even though he was merely a foot away.

The brunette scowled. "Is there anything you need, Mr. Beilschmidt?" she grit out, barely keeping herself from hissing at the man.

The white-haired man, named Gilbert Beilschmidt, was _Axis Productions' _vice-president and the president's older brother. Obviously, Mr. Beilschmidt was Elizaveta's superior. But, since they were kids, she could not seem to stop the annoyance that came with the egoistic man's presence—and she really loathed the fact that they knew each other even before they could walk.

No matter how much she wanted to rip the man a new one for simply _existing_, she had to hold herself back because her job always came first.

Still, she was never in danger of being sacked because she whacked the Gilbert with a frying pan; so maybe she'll throw the stapler on her desk at him today.

"Ah, you know my dodging skills have improved lately because of your throwing things at me," Gilbert drawled and laughed when Elizaveta glared at him, "Oh relax, babe. I just wanted to ask you something."

"If this is one of your attempts to get a date with one of my talents, then, forget it." she snarled and stood up to collect the papers she had accidentally thrown. Seriously, why was the man even _here_?

Gilbert laughed again and bent to retrieve the papers that fell in front of the desk. "Nah, it's not about that," he said.

The manager raised a brow in suspicion—and partly of surprise—and Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"No, seriously, it's not about that." The vice-president stated, his tone sounding authoritative. "I heard that the reporter from _ANN _that was assigned for the _FH _tour was changed at the last minute."

Elizaveta stiffened, "Yes, I'm very sorry about that—"

"And," Gilbert cut in, as he slid the papers he had collected across the desk back to Elizaveta. He stared hard at the woman as he spoke, "It seems they sent one of their segment producers… Mr. Williams, was it?"

"Yes, Mr. Beilschmidt."

"Hmm…"

The brunette eyed her superior warily as he nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if he was plotting something important. She rarely found herself watching the most mischievous man she had met thinking so deeply—weighing options that only a top executive can think of. These times, Elizaveta almost convinced herself that Gilbert was not always an egoistic bastard.

Almost.

When a familiar smirk spread across the visage of the white haired man, she blanched.

"Oh no you don't—"

"Oh yes I will~" Gilbert cut in and fled from the room.

Elizaveta stood from her side of the desk for a few seconds, vibrating in anger. With a curse, she grabbed the stapler and ran after the vice-president.

"You will _**not**_seduce Matthew!" she screeched as she prowled the hallways to give the man a very horrific head injury.

…

* * *

><p>…<p>

After a short plane trip, Matthew found himself in the guests' lounge of a building he supposed was the temporary headquarters of the _FH _tour he had to cover. He settled himself in the far corner of the lounge and neatly brought out the papers he should have read by now. Kiku sat beside him and began to being out files of his own.

"So then, Matthew-kun, I should probably explain the tour's time table to you."

Matthew looked up from his papers and smiled. "Of course," he said and put the papers down.

The cameraman smiled back. "Very well," he began and brought out a piece of paper with a line of dates that more or less covered the whole month. "Today, we have an interview with the cast at 1:00 in the afternoon. That is two hours before the motorcade of the whole cast. I hope that we will be able to interview all the main characters of the movie in one hour. Will that be okay, Matthew-kun?"

The reporter brought out a list of questions prepared for the interview. He idly nodded in acknowledgment.

"I can do it," he murmured.

Kiku smiled again and continued, "The very least, we would need to interview the very main character. It will not hurt if we cannot interview all the main characters."

Matthew nodded distractedly once more as he went through the questions and visualized how the interview would go. It has been two years since he last made an appearance on live television, so he might not be as good a reporter as he was before. However, he may not admit it, but he was excited to act as a field reporter again. He could not remember a time (as limited as those times were) he hated being in front of the camera as he rattled on about whatever needed to be reported. Although it was discomfiting, covering at least thirty percent of the screen for some time, he liked being a reporter.

It was a thousand times better, being recognized as a non-descript _male_ reporter, than being recognized as a famous actor's much sought-after _female _lover.

"Matthew-kun?"

Matthew hummed absentmindedly as a reply.

"Perhaps we best eat our lunch soon," Kiku said as he put away the papers he had laid out. Matthew nodded in agreement and began to arrange his files as well.

As the Japanese cameraman stood, he continued, "Then, we can go meet Jones-san in his dressing room at 12:30."

Matthew froze and blinked. Kiku tilted his head curiously at the action.

"Matthew-kun?"

The blond opened and closed his mouth until words finally came out. "Did—did you say, J-Jones?"

"Yes," Kiku confirmed, brows scrunched in confusion. "Jones-san, Alfred Jones-san."

"He—but—why h-him?"

"Eh? Alfred Jones-san is the actor playing the main character of _Fallen Hero_, remember?"

"What!" Matthew exclaimed, papers slipping from his grip in surprise, "He—n-no way…"

"I am sorry, Matthew-kun, did you not know?" Kiku asked as he attempted to make the Canadian calm down. Matthew nodded stiffly and worried his lower lip. The cameraman patted the reporter's back comfortingly. "It will be fine, Matthew-kun. I am sure he will not beat you with a paddle."

Matthew jerked and squeaked, "A-a-a _what_? P-pa-pad—"

"Oh," Kiku's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed, "_I-ie_, _s-sumimasen. _I forgot that was not true…"

Matthew did not want to know what kind of story involving him entailed the use of a _paddle_. He really did not want to. He did not have the time to think about that because, apparently, he had an interview with _Alfred_.

Just when he thought, he could have some peace of mind for a while.

"I am really sorry, Matthew-kun."

"I-it's okay…"

He sat back down and tried to relax. It will be okay. All he had to do was maintain a purely business atmosphere around the actor. He just needed to avoid Alfred as much as he can during their free time… Oh, who was he kidding? How in the world will he survive a whole _month_ touring with his boyfriend?

Boyfriend—

The reporter blinked and groaned, "He's not my boyfriend..." He whined pitifully as Kiku did his best to console his friend.

"_You must be Matthew Williams_."

Matthew looked up from his slump and stared.

Was his wrecked-up composure messing with his senses, or was the man looking at him an authentic _albino_?

"Mr. Beilschmidt, good day to you." Kiku piped up, making realization dawn on the reporter. His issue with Alfred was really making him forget the important details. How could he forget about Gilbert Beilschmidt, the vice-president of _Axis Productions_?

Matthew cleared his throat and stood up. "Good day, Mr. Beilschmidt," he greeted, managing a polite smile. "It is good to finally be of acquaintance."

The white haired man grinned and held out a hand. The reporter took the hand and shook it.

"Yes, good to finally meet you. I see the rumors of your looks aren't just _rumors_." Mr. Beilschmidt winked, and chuckled when Matthew flushed lightly, "Very cute, indeed."

"T-thank you, sir—"

"**Gilbert!**"

The vice-president managed to yell "duck!" when a heavy metal stapler went flying towards them, and Matthew and Kiku managed to dodge the flying office supply.

However, before the two workers of _ANN _managed to regain equilibrium and ask what just happened, Mr. Beilschmidt was already being forcibly dragged away by a fuming Ms. Héderváry. Matthew and Kiku blinked.

"I am sure we do not want to know what that was all about, Matthew-kun."

"I agree."

…

…

…

…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Behold, whatever the hell this chapter is, I hope I didn't screw it up. ;w; Honestly, I don't even know how I managed to kick myself into writing the last bit of this. Ehe~ yes, this chapter has been stewing on my desktop for more than seven months, _unfinished_. I've only finished it today, which is weird because I _should_ be studying for my prelim exams and yeah~~

Guess I really didn't want to study and I was desperate for a distraction**/shot.**

Oh the usual, sorry for any and all grammar and spelling mistakes.

Oh, in case some of you think that this will have some sort of PruCan in the next chapters…

_**Jokes. On. You!**_

Just saying, there will be _no_ serious PruCan here. Believe me, with the way I'm running the story in my mind, there's _**no way **_it'll become PruCan. You'll see what I mean after, give or take three chapters?

And imagine how long I would take to haul those out**/shot.**

So hey, thank you for reading! Leave me a review~~ :3


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